


Lazy Day

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: It was oddly human.
Relationships: Kent Davison/Sue Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Lazy Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to crazymaryt for the suggestion

A weekend off. Both days. Sue didn’t know how Kent had managed to accomplish it. 

She stretched out in the bed without opening her eyes. Inside her warm cocoon everything was quiet and still. She could stay here all day.

Her foot brushed against a light pressure on top of the bedclothes. She rested her foot against the lightly curved presence and felt an answering vibration as the cat purred. She felt Bogart stretch out. As much as Sue could make herself comfortable, no human could ever come close to a cat.

Sue opened her eyes and pushed herself up onto her elbows, wincing at the bright light slipping through the open curtains. Bogart was, of course, bathed in sunlight, soaking up the warmth.

Sue rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed, pushing her feet into her slippers. She took her chenille robe from the hook and wrapped it around herself. As she made her way downstairs, she heard the faint sound of music and the zip and whoosh of science-fiction special effects.

Kent was in his gaming chair, frowning in concentration as he played one of his games. She wasn’t very familiar with his games as he rarely had the time to play. He was wearing a Wicked t-shirt and jogging pants. He hadn’t brushed his hair yet.

Sue smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. ‘Good morning.’

‘Hi.’ He paused his game. ‘Do you want some breakfast?’

‘I’ll get it,’ she said. ‘You want some tea?’

‘Uh huh, yes please,’ he said, his attention already straying back to the television.

Kent’s kitchen was smaller than hers was but was more crowded. Kent had a tendency to fill every possible space. She turned on the teakettle and tried to remember in which cabinet he hid the cereals.

Bacall brushed against Sue’s legs before flopping down on her back, showing her belly. Sue knelt down and rubbed Bacall’s chest for a moment. Kent had told her that the chest was fine, but Sue had heard too many stories about cats suddenly attacking people to risk more than a few seconds.

Sue made the tea and carried his cup into the living room. ‘What do you want for breakfast?’

‘Eggs sunny side up and fried bacon,’ he said, barely seeming aware of her presence.

‘What?’

‘What?’

He paused the game and looked at her. ‘Apologies. That was incredibly rude.’

‘You want fried eggs and bacon for breakfast?’ Sue asked incredulously. ‘Last night you ran five miles.’

He squirmed. ‘I’ll cook it myself. I didn’t mean to suggest that you would.’

‘That’s not… I can make you a heart attack breakfast,’ she said. ‘I just struggle to believe that you’d want one.’

Kent looked sheepish. ‘It’s rare that I feel in the mood. However, there are certain times when I feel like eating something… comforting and purely calibrated to taste good rather than to meet a specific nutritional need.’

‘Oh.’ She gave him his cup of tea. ‘Will that do, or would you prefer some variety of hot toddy?’

‘Not at eight in the morning,’ he said meekly.

Sue kissed his cheek. ‘Your little man has a very strange shape.’

Kent was confused for a moment before looking at the screen. ‘She’s a woman.’

‘The game has a female lead?’

Kent shrugged. ‘You can play as either,’ he said as she walked towards the door.

She looked back at him. ‘Why are you playing as a female character then?’

‘Because I can.’

Sue shook her head as she went back into the kitchen. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Kent had some very strange ideas.

***

It took him a few minutes to realise where the noise was coming from. He would hesitate to call it “sound” let alone “music.” Kent saved his game and turned it off before walking cautiously towards the kitchen.

Kent would be the first person to admit that he did not have a good singing voice, nor did he have any particular affinity for any musical instruments. He had reached basic proficiency with the piano but that was pure rote learning without any particular skill. These facts had long been a source of some minor disappointment since music was one of his lifelong passions.

And yet, he was quite sure that he did not, had not ever, and quite possibly could not sound as ear-splittingly terrible as Sue did. She was too loud, off-key, and off-tempo. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen and said nothing, desperate not to disturb her.

The song finished playing on the radio and an ad came on. Sue flipped back her hair and turned before Kent realised what she was going to do.

She stared at him. ‘How long have you been stood there?’

‘Uh…’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Were you watching me?’

Kent leaned forward slightly. ‘What answer will not result in you yelling at me?’

She pursed her lips. ‘You’re supposed to be shooting things.’

‘I came to see if you needed any help,’ he said meekly.

‘Why would I need help to fry bacon and eggs?’ she asked tartly.

He held up his hands. ‘I came to see if you wanted any help.’

She leaned against the counter. ‘That’s better.’

‘I thought you didn’t like music,’ he said.

She frowned as she waited to see if he was going to add anything else but relaxed slightly when he didn’t. ‘I don’t like movies. Some music I like.’

‘If it doesn’t have too many notes?’ Kent asked.

‘Is that a movie reference?’

‘It’s an Amadeus reference,’ he admitted. ‘It’s a movie about Mozart, if that might perhaps bridge the gap in your preferences.’

Sue took the pan from the heat. ‘I’ve seen the play.’

‘Oh?’

‘I didn’t care for it,’ she said sternly. ‘It was wildly inaccurate. They should’ve just changed the names if they were going to change so much else.’

Kent shrugged. ‘Then nobody would go to see it and besides the historical background and characters lend it an emotional heft.’

‘That it doesn’t deserve,’ she said. She gave him a sly look that he’d never seen from her before. ‘In three hundred years, when they are writing movies about you murdering Dan, will it be all right for the film makers to defame you because it lends the movie emotional weight?’

Kent had to sit down. ‘Are you seriously comparing Dan Egan with Mozart?’

‘I’m saying that in several hundred years the perception of Dan’s personality might have been warped beyond any form that we would recognise,’ Sue said.

Kent winced. ‘The idea that in ten years people would still remember who Dan is…’

‘We are part of the public record,’ Sue said. ‘This is why that it is important to do what you can to take control of the narrative.’

‘Otherwise I might become Salieri?’

She shrugged. ‘Or whatever happened with the people in Hamilton.’

‘You have seen Amadeus, but you haven’t seen Hamilton? Your taste in musical theatre is intriguing,’ Kent said.

Sue put the plate of food down in front of him. ‘I have seen Hamilton,’ she said tartly. ‘I’m just not familiar with the actual facts of the people. The truth about classical musicians is interesting. The truth about Independence politicians is not interesting.’

‘Aren’t you eating?’ Kent asked.

She put down her bowl of cereal and sat opposite him.

‘What do you want to do today?’ Kent asked.

‘Very little,’ she said firmly. ‘I spend all of my time usually with every minute scheduled. I would like not to do that today.’

Kent sipped his coffee. ‘I get that,’ he said.

‘I’m sure that you enjoy having time to play video games.’

‘Sue, you don’t need to justify allowing yourself some time to just decompress and relax,’ he said gently.

‘I know that,’ she said. She pushed her spoon around the bowl. ‘I have no issue going to the spa.’

Kent smiled. ‘I think that you classify that as a kind of… maintenance and therefore it is a form of productivity.’

Sue crossed her legs. ‘That isn’t helpful.’

‘Spending the weekend doing as little as possible is good for you,’ he said. ‘Allow your mind to rest. Release the stress.’

Sue pulled a face. ‘You’re a terrible influence on me.’

He laughed. ‘As if I ever had a hope of influencing you in any way shape or form.’

She looked past him and out of the window. ‘We could go for a walk later.’

He twisted to follow her gaze. ‘We could take a picnic.’

‘But before that,’ she said. ‘We should go back up to bed.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you tired?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not in the slightest.’

‘Ah.’

***

Sue had a shower while Kent made sandwiches. He always had more patience for food preparation than Sue did. She had never much thought about his liking for food. He was a trim man and worked hard to keep himself fit. For Sue, those choices did not imply someone who enjoyed their food nearly as much as Kent did.

She slipped into jeans and a smart t-shirt before she went downstairs. Kent was putting entirely too much food into the basket. If it were up to him then she would be the size of a bus. She rubbed her hand across his back.

‘Go shower,’ she said. ‘You smell of morning delights.’

‘Some people would enjoy that,’ he said lightly.

She kissed him. ‘Some people do not think it’s appropriate for you to walk around where everyone can smell you.’

‘Spoilsport,’ he said lightly, heading for the door.

She was tempted to follow him, but then they’d never get anywhere pleasant by lunchtime. Sue was not someone who suffered being hungry.

Instead, she finished getting ready. Kent was the first man whom she had allowed to see in the morning without a full face of makeup. She knew that he found it faintly amusing that she woke up an hour earlier than he did in order to do her hair and face. Sue did not find it amusing. Men, even men who took care of themselves, simply didn’t understand what it was like to meet the fickle judgements of style and fashion.

Kent took care of himself. She appreciated that. He did not particularly go in for spa treatments, as she did, but he worked out, he ran, he practiced Pilates, and he meditated. In truth she really didn’t understand the appeal or the practice of meditation, but he had told her that it had been studied and proven to have scientific benefits. She was minded to believe him, if only because she suspected that if she didn’t then he would bring out the studies and explain them to her in detail.

He sometimes let his hair grow a little longer than she would have preferred but he went to a very good stylist. He even had his beard trimmed once every couple of weeks, although in between times he neatened it himself. Even this morning, ungroomed and unshowered, he still looked good. She was always proud to have him by her side.

Eggs and bacon for breakfast. That had taken her surprise. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, especially since it was very much an outlier. His taste in food was generally very much towards the healthy type. It had never occurred to her that “comfort food” was something that he was seek out.

It was oddly human. Not that Sue had ever been one of the staffers to make sneering comments about Kent’s perceived lack of humanity. Perhaps that was the wrong word for it. Vulnerable? That didn’t seem any closer to the concept that she was struggling to pin down. She had an image of Kent that she knew was not precisely aligned with the lived reality of dating him. He had pointed that out to her more than once. She didn’t expect him to do things like play video games, watch schlocky supernatural teen dramas, or talk to his cat as if he expected an answer. But he did all three and plenty of other things besides that.

Eggs and bacon for breakfast. She liked that she had been able to make it for him. She rarely cooked. Not because she didn’t have the skill but because she didn’t have the inclination. She had far too many other calls on her time. Sue was the kind of person who paid to have her home comfortable and well-maintained, not the kind of person who made it comfortable or maintained.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Kent asked, sliding his arms around her waist.

‘I’m thinking how odd you are,’ she said, turning around and kissing him. ‘But fortunately, you’re just about acceptable in general company.’

‘Ouch,’ he grumbled, and then slid his hand down to pinch her butt.

‘I’m hungry,’ she said, moving his hand. ‘We should go.’

He threw her a salute. It was extremely badly done. Her father would have been appalled. Sue simply smiled.

‘And in the car,’ she said.

‘I wasn’t going to suggest we walk,’ he said, sounding confused.

‘You might have suggested the motorcycle,’ she said, an edge of distaste in her voice.

Kent rolled his eyes. ‘I’m hardly about to do that given how badly you reacted the one time I asked if you wanted to come for a ride.’

‘Those things are death traps,’ she said firmly.

He picked up the basket and strolled towards the door. ‘I maintain my bike in perfect condition, as you well know.’

‘You know that isn’t what I mean,’ she said. ‘All it takes if for someone to open their car door at the wrong time to knock you off.’

‘Then the issue isn’t whether my bike is a “death trap” but other drivers being careless,’ he argued as they walked outside.

‘The issue is you being run over or otherwise horribly injured,’ she said tartly. ‘Frankly, I don’t care what contortions you pull verbally to say that it isn’t your fault if you get crushed under a truck. It won’t matter to me whose fault it is, because you will be dead.’

Kent stood with his hand on the roof of her car. ‘Is the cool and ever composed Sue Wilson worrying about me?’

She pursed her lips. ‘I don’t have a good black dress for a funeral.’

‘Ah,’ Kent said. ‘It would be a good excuse for you to buy one.’

Sue pulled a face. ‘You aren’t as funny as you imagine that you are.’

***

They picnicked in the park. It was too warm for coats but not warm enough for shirtsleeves. Kent put on a light jacket and Sue put on a long, light cardigan as they made themselves a little space. There was just enough of a bite in the air to dissuade the hordes of tourists, and to make their flask of coffee just that much more pleasant.

Kent watched Sue eating her sandwiches. He was thinking that the things that had attracted him to her originally, and the things that made staying worthwhile, were completely different. Possibly even in opposition. He had been attracted, in part at least, by her composure, and her confidence. She took no nonsense from anyone. But that wasn’t what he thought of now when thoughts of her made him smile at odd moments during the day. Her terrible singing, her idiosyncratic knowledge of musical theatre, and even her badly hidden fear that he might be hurt while riding his bike, those were things that made her, her. They were the things that made him smile or spurred him to put his arms around her.

‘You’re staring at me and being weird,’ she said.

‘I’m thinking how much I care for you and the things that you do which make me feel that way,’ Kent explained.

She pursed her lips. ‘Is this where you tell me that you love me?’

Kent was quiet for a moment. ‘It might be.’

‘It might be?’

He shrugged. ‘Would that be something that you might like to hear?’

Sue sipped her coffee. ‘It might be.’

‘Would it be something that you might consider saying back?’ Kent asked, tentatively.

‘It might be.’

Kent leaned forward and kissed her softly. Then he brushed his lips to her ear. ‘I love you.’

Sue didn’t respond for a long moment, during which he was sure that he could feel his heart beating. Then she put her lips to his ear.

‘I love you. And if you ever tell anyone that you heard me singing, I will end you.’

Kent chuckled. ‘Deal.’

The End


End file.
